The Chaos Project
by cumberwookie
Summary: James Moriarty lied. There was a code that could bypass and compromise any security system, leaving Mycroft & Sherlock to wonder who made it. Little do they know that betrayal lurks among them, in the form of their little brother, Sherrinford. Even the most unassuming faces hide the darkest secrets, and they bring tragedy and resolution, at the cost of human lives. Bondlock!


Hi guys! Here's a spinoff fic about Q's former criminal life. I got the idea while writing Agent Chetiri, so here it is! This is only the first part, and the second should be done soon.

Enjoy your reading!

* * *

No one knew how he became a part of the MI6.

He was an introvert at heart, undoubtedly diagnosed with some mild form of Asperger's. He had a manic, almost unholy dedication to his work, and he didn't seem to be interested in interacting with anyone on social terms while at work. No matter how messy his desk was or how internally scattered he seemed, everything around him was in an organized chaos, and he could direct anyone towards whatever they were searching for. He didn't seem to communicate well with others, often going hours without speaking. He rarely spoke when he worked, unless to further his mission.

He was difficult, yet he was there.

The rest of the Q-Branch figured that he had been hired on a whim. The National Board of Intelligence Services had thrown a fit over new recruits the last time M had attended a hearing. The Board reprimanded her and demanded newer, fresher faces in the MI6 base for the reasoning that, "The youth of today will innovate the improvements in our security network tomorrow."

Of course, youth is no guarantee of innovation, but M wasn't too keen on telling them otherwise.

Everyone believed one side of the story; Sherrinford Holmes was nothing more than a uni graduate who had lucked out in being hired by the National Board's orders to work at the MI6. Yet none of them knew the whole story, of the turmoil that had occurred years before. Sherrinford's life was never quite as innocent as it seemed, and underneath his quiet demeanour was a different man and a different life.

No one ever realizes that even the most unassuming faces hide the darkest secrets.

* * *

**_(November 28, 2010- 9:10 AM)_**

_Redwood, Washington_

The Microsoft Complex was always a busy place, and today seemed to be no exception. Workers were always rushing about with new business to conduct, in order to keep the company one of the most successful in the world. Yet in the din of the day, there was one man who seemed oblivious to the bustling workers and monotonous hum of rustling papers, copy machines.

He did not seem ordinary, by any means, in comparison to the other workers. Unlike the median age of 34, he was a young man of 26, the youngest worker in the office. He had tousled brown hair that never seemed to be quite tidy, wire-rimmed glasses, and blue-green eyes that held a sharp gaze masked behind a quiet demeanour. Most people (at first glance) did not know to take him seriously, and merely presumed that he fulfilled the average stereotype of a recent graduate—a bright-eyed, quiet and naïve student who had not yet known the cutthroat competition the world could bring. They thought he could be as gullible and as easy to manipulate as a mere child.

Sherrinford Holmes, to their chagrin, did not fulfill that stereotype in any way.

Unlike most recent employees, Sherrinford was a sharp tongued, sarcastic, seemingly emotionless, and entirely competent individual who was visibly unwilling to accept a place on the bottom of the workplace hierarchy. Though most of the directors of different departments were over 40, he was the only exception. He had quickly surpassed his fellow workers with seemingly no effort, earning his place as the Head of Security Development. The breadth of his knowledge infuriated many people affiliated with the company much longer than him. Who was he, merely a recent graduate, to rise to such importance? His success fueled their fury, yet he remained aloof and quiet in spite of the other worker's envy of his intelligence.

Such envy, though deemed taboo and undesirable by society today, was but a byproduct of human nature and biological phenomena working hand in hand. Like a neanderthal living in a primitive world, the modern human fears what he or she cannot fathom and despises those who threaten his or her position in the social order.

Sherrinford Holmes, in that same analogy, was the outsider they viewed as the threat. Though he was the youngest worker at the headquarters, he was brilliant and had extensive credentials, even if he did not seem impressive at the first glance. Sherrinford had completed a Masters Degree from the University of Cambridge two years before, all with first class marks and honours status. He had published successful thesis and research papers, won awards for creating new security developments, and frequently presented new research at scientific conventions.

With success comes a lot of gossip, and Sherrinford was subject to his fair share. The rumours, of course, ran the gamut from feasible to ridiculous. He was frequently rumoured to be in a relationship with his secretary, Nicole, or that he had an unhappy marriage in the past (both of which, to everyone's dismay, were erroneous assumptions). On the other side, he was also rumoured to have done car commercials in Japan, and that he had punched someone in the face once (it had been rather impressive, or so they claimed). Sherrinford found most of these rumours as insipid and detestable (like the Japan and fighting ones mentioned before), yet found himself amused by their idle chatter. It seemed like the other employees were desperate to humanize him and spread wild rumours as a result.

Yet this attempt at humanization was the only way the others could cope with working with him. Granted, he was merely a quiet, busy worker who was relatively unrelated to their endeavours. Nevertheless, they could not accept the fact that he was in their league, and he was only 26. Sherrinford had accomplished more in his life than they had done in years, and it shocked the into believing that age really was no guarantee of efficiency. The youth were efficient in their own ways and this case, were able to surpass those who had gone before them.

But one must take an image of perfection and distinction with caution, and it seemed that Sherrinford was not as faultless as he seemed. Behind his quiet demeanour was a fatal sense of hubris. In two years, he had grown bored of his work here at Microsoft and of the other workers around him, leading him to believe that he was too good to be stuck here. Nothing presented a challenge for him, and complacency was quickly settling in. Yet a gnawing sense of boredom trumped his pride and he was desperate for something new. In his eyes, he was a brightly coloured figure stuck in a monotonous world of black and white. All he wanted and needed was a spark to brighten up his world and make the game just a little more interesting.

This spark would come today, of all days, from a complete stranger. It was an unprecedented event, and had caught him off guard as he walked nonchalantly down the halls towards his office with his hands in his pockets and headphones in his ears. He was not listening to the world around him at the moment and was engrossed in a world of music. His mind wandered as he listened to an eclectic mix of the Black Keys, Cage the Elephant, Tchaikovsky, the Wu-Tang Clan, and Muse. At the moment, he was not the Director of Security Development for Microsoft, but merely a twenty-six year old man walking down the hall listening to what he thought was "damn good music". His fingers tapped impatiently against his leg as he stood in the elevator to the beat of "Ain't No Rest for the Wicked", and he stepped nonchalantly down the hallway and into his department before hearing a faint voice behind him.

"Oh, Holmes! W-wait a moment, Holmes!" A woman blurted out as she caught up to him. He turned around to face Janet, a plump woman of forty. She peered at him through her red-rimmed glasses and set down her hands.

"Janet, how many times have I told you," Sherrinford sighed. "I would much rather be addressed as sir."

He thought he saw a glint of displeasure in her eyes, and she visibly curled her lip in distaste as she glanced down slightly. _She hates answering to a young man like me_, he thought in amusement as he put his hands in his pockets. "Yes, sir," she muttered.

"Alright. Now, what were you in such a fuss about?" he said.

"There's a man here to see you, Holm-I mean, sir," she began.

"On what business?" Sherrrinford said, grabbing a stack of papers and placing them on his desk for the day.

"I'm not quite sure, sir. He won't say," she began to rant. "Nicole keeps saying you're out, but he's persistent. She sent me up here to tell you-"

"I'll take a look at him myself. Go back to work," Sherrinford sighed.

"But sir, who is he-" she said.

"Janet," Sherrinford said in a tone that conveyed his waning patience. "Go back to work."

Her face turned beet-red as she let out a small huff of annoyance, and he watched as she headed out of the room. Sherrinford headed to the phone on the desk and dialed Nicole, who picked up immediately. _First ring_, he thought. _She must really be desperate to get rid of him._

"Microsoft Headquarters, how may I help you?" Nicole said, putting on her most businesslike tone.

"Janet informed me of the bloke down there," Sherrinford said. "Don't send him up, but tell him I'll be arriving soon and tell him to sit. I'll be heading down there, but don't let him know."

"Alright," she said, before the sound of the dial tone filled the line. Sherrinford placed the phone on the receiver once again and headed to the lobby of the building with quickened steps. He tapped his foot impatiently as he stood on the elevator, yet strode out coolly through the doors.

Sherrinford gave the lobby a passing glance from his position at the hallway and immediately saw the blonde-haired man standing awkwardly as Nicole urged him to sit. As Nicole bent over to pick up her purse, the man casually walked past her without her knowledge and headed down the long corridor. The man advanced down the stretch of tiled floor and passed Sherrinford, who promptly jostled him in the chest. The man's wallet leapt out of the shallow breast pocket and fell face down on the floor.

"Oh, I'm sorry about that. Let me," Sherrinford said as both of them bent down to grab the wallet. He stopped the other man and caught a glimpse of a silver watch and cufflink as he proceeded to pick up the wallet. A quick motion of his thumb allowed him to see the glimpse of different currencies from the UK, Japan, China, and Ukraine. There was no I.D., but what he had seen was enough. Sherrinford flipped the wallet together without arousing his suspicion and thought quietly to himself.

_How odd_, he thought. The wallet is new, purchased at least two months ago, yet it's already excessively scratched. He looks like a well-groomed man, yet everything but his wallet is impeccable. Naturally, he's of the active sort from his build. Clothes are new, likely due to large earnings. Why not replace the wallet?

Not out of sentiment, certainly, Sherrinford decided as he handed the wallet back. It must be due to the fact that it is a small detail like his watch and cuff links, which are both excessively scratched as well. He keeps up appearances, a mask of sorts. So who could he be? No man would wear cuff links and a watch on regular events requiring vigorous activity, nor take a conscious effort to mask their identity. He has to be a mole; possibly Mycroft's newest bodyguard. Big Brother always did hate legwork.

"Thanks for getting my wallet," the man said, with a clearly foreign lilt to his voice. Sherrinford heard a vaguely Scottish undertone in his voice and put his hands back in his pockets.

"Not a problem," Sherrinford said. "Did you need something, by the way, or are you just here for someone?"

The man paused before turning to him. "Tell you the truth, I'm looking for someone (a woman, I think) named Sherri Holmes-"

Sherrinford's demeanor quickly changed, and his polite look had become a petulant frown. "The name's Sherrinford, not Sherri. Don't assume that I'm female just because of my name," he said, looking unamused.

The man looked startled and gave him a quizzical look. "I apologize for that. I didn't think-"

"Yes, yes, you didn't mean it. Now, what do you want?" he replied impatiently.

He watched the man pause in step and remain before the elevators. "I'm afraid it's a private matter," he said, his face morphing into an unperturbed expression.

"That I am assuming can be discussed in my office," Sherrinford replied. "Come on, let's go."

The man followed him up silently and took a seat at the chair in front of Sherrinford's desk. He watched as Sherrinford took his seat, and the man saw him lace his fingers together. "Now, if you could tell me what this private matter is about, Mr...?" he said.

"The name's Moran. Sebastian Moran. My employer is offering you a position as a researcher," the man explained as he handed Sherrinford a folder.

Sherrinford's eyes passed swiftly over the glossed pages and laminated articles. His eyebrow raised upwards, yet there was interest in his gaze. "Hm. Tell me more, especially about who wants to hire me," he said.

"The Chaos Project requires you to research a way to compromise the safety of any infrastructure," he said.

"Why choose solitary research?"

"You are the best the world has to offer. It would be bloody inefficient to have ten men do the job one can do," Sebastian said carefully.

"I'm afraid flattery will get you nowhere quite quickly, Mr. Moran. I'll need a better reason than that," Sherrinford replied, looking nonplussed.

"You know what it is already. Must I really say it?" Sebastian sighed theatrically.

"If you want me to know what on earth you're referring to, then yes," Sherrinford said. He paused momentarily, and fiddled with a paperweight in his hand as he looked over at Sebastian. "Tell me, Mr. Moran, who funds this operation?"

"It's a privately funded project of mine," he said. Sherrinford's eyes darkened, and he folded his arms across his chest.

"Mr. Moran, I'm a twenty-six year old man with a stable job and a high ranking position. Remind me again why I would accept an invitation to international sabotage, theft, and possibly terrorism," Sherrinford challenged, folding his arms across his chest. He could not help but be unsettled by the smirk on the man's face that did not seem to waver. Sebastian let out an unexpected chuckle and leant against the desk.

"I know what you genius types are like. Even geniuses get bored. You can't bear living in the ordinary like this; it drives you insane. You need the high from challenges no one but you can solve (or so you think) and a chance to play the big hero or villain. So tell me, Mr. Holmes," he said, pointing at Sherrinford. "What are you?"

Sherrinford watched Sebastian with a careful eye, not wanting to admit that he had hit the nail on the head. "Currently, I'm not interested," he said primly.

"Oh, no. That would be too ordinary, and you would never allow it," he said. "Not after being called that by your dear mummy and big brothers for so long."

At the mention of his family, Sherrinford's eyes narrowed. "Low blow, Moran," he said testily.

"Touched a nerve, didn't I? You were asking for it, after all you've been through. You've always thought yourself to be viewed as nothing to your brothers; the dreadfully ordinary black sheep in the abnormal bunch. Why else would you flee to America?" he replied, looking slightly amused. Sebastian stood up and placed his hands in his pockets. "But this would be your chance to change all of that; to prove that you're more than what they thought you to be."

Sherrinford was silent for a while, before he found himself chuckling. "Is that it? Attacking my familial relations is the angle you've decided upon?" he said.

"It worked, didn't it?" Sebastian questioned.

"It's true, but I'm afraid I'm still not wholly convinced. I just wanted to know how low you would stoop," Sherrinford said, leaning back in his chair. "But what you said earlier intrigued me, Moran. Tell me what would happen with such a code."

"No bank account, asset, or any sort of funding would be safe. All information would be at your fingertips. Secrets? Security? There would be none. You would own secrecy, and no one would be safe," he smirked. "Is that enough to spark your interest?"

"I'll never say," Sherrinford replied, smirking cryptically at the man sitting across from him.

"But will you say what your response is to my offer?"

"Let me think about it," Sherrinford said, lacing his fingers together.

"Fair enough. There's a calling card in there, since I'll be leaving at 7 today. Let me know," he said. "Good afternoon, Holmes."

"Good afternoon, Moran," Sherrinford said as he watched the blonde haired man leave his office. As soon as he left, Sherrinford went back to his work and attempted to forget about Sebastian's offer. Hours passed, however, and he found that he could not get the matter off his mind.

As he sat alone in his office that afternoon, he flipped open the folder and glanced at the files given to him. It was an unexpected offer, yet it could be possible with research and time. He just needed to test out new methods and-

Oh god, I'm actually giving this serious consideration, Sherrinford thought to himself, inwardly groaning. This was illegal, dangerous, and he knew from the start that this was what many would consider wrong in every way possible. Yet in his mind, he knew that Sebastian was right. Though he did not want to admit it, the words about his family were correct. No one ever took him seriously, and he always did wish for a way to show them that he was more than they anticipated.

Though this was true, it was not the real reason why he was seriously considering Sebastian's offer; rather, it was boredom and self-interest. He was every bit a Holmes, which really meant getting involved in bigger matters to oust the dullness in his life. His older brother Sherlock had found his outlet through international super-sleuthing and seeking out shady sources for information and amusement, so to speak, and Mycroft found his through meddling with the dubious inner workings of international government. In his mind, he needed an outlet of his own as he was terribly bored, and as the saying went, idle hands are the devil's workshop. Would he do this just to escape the damning dullness of his new life?

Apparently, that seemed to be the case.

"Bloody hell. It's not like I ever had morals anyway," Sherrinford muttered, tossing a pen down. He would accept, but he decided that the final product would never go back to Moran. Sherrinford would feed him false information and a semi-functioning outcome, if possible, before double-crossing him and taking off. It seemed dangerous, yet it seemed feasible and enough to serve his interests. He ran a hand through his hair and let out a sigh before he shoved the files into a briefcase. It was about time to go home, so he would let Sebastian know that he accepted.

It was silent as he drove home, save for the traffic around him and the sound of the pouring rain hitting the car. As he headed downtown, he spotted a phone booth and parked next to it. He stepped inside, shaking off the rain from his clothes, and dialed the number in his hands. For some reason, a sense of restlessness filled his veins, and he tapped his fingers impatiently against the glass. Finally, he heard a click on the line and a male voice spoke up.

"Moran speaking."

"I'll accept the offer," Sherrinford said.

"Excellent. Most of everything that you need is in the folder. Money to fund the project comes from a Swiss bank account, so if you need any more funding, use this number," Sebastian said. "I'll contact you every now and then, make sure you're actually coming up with something."

"Oh, please. I'm sure there's an output I can produce," Sherrinford scoffed. There was a small silence on the line, before Sebastian let out a small huff.

"One thing, Holmes. Why did you say yes?" he said.

"You said it yourself, Moran. Even geniuses get bored," he said. Sebastian chuckled lightly in response, the line crackling slightly as he shifted around.

"For a straight-laced type of bastard, you're not half bad, kid," Sebastian said. "I always expected you to be the moral-led type of guy."

At this, Sherrinford could not contain his laughter. "It's always the quiet ones you have to watch out for," he said in parting as he placed the phone back on the hook and walked away.

As he drove home, he found no hesitance towards the legalities of his newest endeavour. Instead, there was a sense of restlessness that reminded and an eagerness to begin on the project. It would finally erase the boredom that had taken over his life for the past years, which caused him to smirk slightly. Though he had accepted, it was never for the love, the power, or the money.

It was solely for the game.


End file.
